


You're a Candle in the Window

by hazelNuts



Series: Prompt Fics [98]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Fluff, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, POV Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6548410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>inell asked: "Oh song prompt! How fun. Let's go totally rom-com cheesy for this one, shall we? Stiles/Jackson - 'I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore' by REO Speedwagon"</p><p>
  <i>He’s not hiding, Jackson tells himself. He’s just… taking his time to figure out what to say.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>It took Jackson ten minutes to get out of his car, finally having gathered the courage to talk to Stiles, and walked up to his house. Half-way across the street, his courage faltered. He sprinted the rest of the way to the bushes dividing the Stilinski’s front yard from their neighbour’s. Which is where he is now.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're a Candle in the Window

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/gifts).



> If you think I forgot any tags, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> [Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore by REO Speedwagon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpOULjyy-n8)

He’s not hiding, Jackson tells himself. He’s just… taking his time to figure out what to say.

It took Jackson ten minutes to get out of his car, finally having gathered the courage to talk to Stiles, and walked up to his house. Half-way across the street, his courage faltered. He sprinted the rest of the way to the bushes dividing the Stilinskis' front yard from their neighbour’s. Which is where he is now.

He’s _not_ hiding.

Jackson snorts at the obvious lie. If someone had told him he’d be scared to talk to _Stiles_ , about _feelings_ , two years ago, he’d have punched them in the face.

There’s movement at Stiles’ window. Jackson’s eyes wander, and then fixate there. Stiles is standing near the window, just close enough that Jackson can see the outline of his torso and his head. Stiles is hunched over, like he’s studying something closely. Jackson wishes he’d been to Stiles’ room, if only once, so he could know what Stiles is looking at. His computer? A book? His phone? A new murder board? He wishes he could listen in, but his own heart is pounding in his ears so loudly it drowns out almost all other sounds.

Stiles moves away from the window and Jackson feels a tug at his heart.

 _Fuck, he’s in an_ _idiot_.

His leg starts to cramp and he moves around a little to stretch his muscles, relieve the ache. It doesn’t work.

_Fuck, this is idiotic._

Maybe he should just go home, try again tomorrow. Which is Friday. Which means lacrosse practice. Which means running drills with Stiles and Scott, because he’s been working so well them the past couple weeks. There is also the added bonus that if he waits till tomorrow, this will become a pack thing, even though it’s none of their damn business. Everyone with heightened senses will be grumbling about how miserable he smells. Lydia will definitely be giving him “looks”. Kira will do the wide-eyed sad-face. Stiles… He has no idea what Stiles will do. What if he looks the way he had earlier that afternoon, all day tomorrow? He will not be able to handle that.

He groans and rubs a hand over his face.

‘What are you doing here?’

Jackson turns around so fast he loses his balance in his crouched position. He sprawls on the ground, then winces as he scrambles up and his legs protest at suddenly being forced to straighten.

Stiles is barely an inch taller than him, but it’s enough that Jackson has to look up. It makes him feel small.

Stiles sighs and throws his hands in the air. ‘If you have nothing to say, I’m going back inside. But can you please leave so Mrs. Young won’t call the station again.’

Stiles is already walking back to the house. Jackson quickly catches up.

‘Who’s Mrs. Young?’

‘My neighbour,’ Stiles explains, sounding like he thinks Jackson is missing half a brain, pointing at the house belonging to the garden Jackson had been hiding in. ‘Who called my dad because there was someone, and I quote, “lurking in the bushes”. Dad figured it was someone from the pack.’

Jackson blushes and thanks the moon that it’s already too dark outside for Stiles to see it.

‘I wasn’t lurking,’ Jackson defends himself. ‘I was waiting.’

‘For what?’

 _Courage_ , Jackson thinks. _The right words_ , he doesn’t say. Instead, he presses his lips tightly together, trying to think of words that won’t make him feel weak or vulnerable when he says them.

Stiles rolls his eyes and turns back to the house again, muttering something under his breath that’s even too low for Jackson to hear. It’s probably an insult.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jackson blurts out. It feels like his chest has been ripped open, and everything he’s been holding in is threatening to spill out. He hates feeling vulnerable, sucks at opening up, but Stiles deserves to have that favour returned.

It does the trick. Stiles nearly stumbles over his own feet as he freezes and then swivels around, his mouth open and eyes wide, his heartbeat stumbling in surprise.

‘I should have stopped you. In the locker room, I should have stopped you and said—‘ Jackson’s words stick in his throat as he recalls what happened that afternoon. Stiles looking hopeful when he tells Jackson he wants to come out with their relationship, wants to make it something real and not just making out in coach’s office and getting off in the locker room, or sneaking in and out of Jackson’s bedroom when Jackson’s parents are home. That hope melted away, turning to hurt, when Jackson wasn’t able to answer. He just stared at Stiles until Stiles grabbed his things and marched out of the locker room.

At the door, Stiles turned around. ‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he said.

And then he was gone.

Jackson isn’t sure how he got home. He assumes he drove, because his car was in the garage when he left for Stiles’ place, but he can’t remember driving. The afternoon is a blur, until dinner, when his mom asked him why he was so quiet.

‘You should have said what?’ Stiles steps closer, his heartbeat speeding up just enough for Jackson to notice. Stiles smiles like hurt, pizza and ice-cream.

‘Everything makes sense when I’m with you. You keep me grounded, keep me from getting lost in my head. And even when I do, you’re like this light that guides me back out.’

‘So what, you want us to get together, because I’m your _lighthouse_?’ Stiles scoffs.

‘No! I want you to have that. _I want to be that for you_.’

Jackson doesn’t see Stiles move, but he’s here, pressing against Jackson, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt, and crashing their lips together. Jackson quickly gets with program and wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, holding the other boy as close as he can.

‘I never realized you were such a poet,’ Stiles mumbles against Jackson’s lips.

Jackson hums noncommittally and tries to keep Stiles from saying more by deepening the kiss. Stiles, however, seems determined.

‘I’m expecting sonnets for my birthdays.’

Jackson snorts.

‘That you will have to read in front of everyone, because else they’ll never believe me you have a poet’s soul.’

‘Fuck you, Stilinski,’ Jackson grumbles, taking Stiles’ bottom lip between his teeth and biting down softly before soothing it with a flick of his tongue.

‘Hmm, maybe not here. We don’t want Mrs. Young to call the station again, do we?’

Jackson never realized how hard kissing is when you’re smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://fandom-madnessess.tumblr.com/).


End file.
